Labels
by CobaltBlue94
Summary: Post 1x09. Brenna and Greer talk about Brenna's choice, and Brenna makes a big decision about her relationship with Greer.


After Mom had done some of her psychological "adolescent development" research, she finally laid some ground rules that she deemed "age-appropriate" for us; Greer was allowed to sleep in my room with me, as long as my bedroom door was wide open, both of us were completely clothed at all times, and we weren't getting too handsy with each other. She sat us both down and had a very direct conversation with us (like she always does), and stated very plainly that she was choosing to trust us both, but that she did so at her own discretion and maintained her right to revoke that trust at any time if she thought we weren't abiding by her terms. I'm seriously grateful to her for being so cool about it, even though I know she is still kind of freaking out. I think maybe she's being so cool because it's _Greer_, and Greer is one of those people you just can't help but trust. Aside from the new open-door policy and the fact that my mom and sister are now all too acutely aware of the fact that Greer and I are a 'thing', everything has pretty much gone back to being the same as it was before.

It's late and Greer and I are laying on my bed together. As much as admitting it out loud would totally ruin my cred, I like being with Greer just like this. Her head is on my shoulder and she has an arm draped over my stomach, tracing mindless patterns onto my hipbone with the fingertips of one arm, while her other lays on the pillow above both of us. My right arm is wrapped around her shoulders and my fingers rest in her silky blonde locks of hair. I pull her body just that much closer into mine. As corny as it sounds, especially coming from me, I can't help but smile at the way that her body molds to mine so comfortably, as if she was always meant to fit right here with me.

"Why me?" she asks unexpectedly after awhile of silence between us.

I jump a little, because I honestly thought she had already fallen asleep. "What?" I ask blankly.

Greer sits up on my bed and swings her hair over her shoulder to look down at me. "I just didn't think you would choose me over Kieran," she tells me with that same direct honesty that I'm finding out is like her trademark.

I sit up too, because the seriousness of what is happening between us is not lost on me.

"Why wouldn't I choose you?" I return, because the idea of me _not_ choosing Greer seems kind of out-there to me.

When Greer bites her lip, I have the strongest impulse to lean in and kiss her, but I know I'm supposed to be having a serious conversation with her right now, so I ignore the urge for the time being.  
"You've been with him longer than me," she answers decidedly. "You work with him. Your life would be so much simpler just dating a boy, instead of having to fend off other people's attempts at defining you. It would have been easy to choose him and keep me as a friend and avoid all the scrutiny that's going to come. So why choose me?" The way she's looking at me, with all this concern and, like, . . . _awe_ or something, is surprising to me, but it's her words that really throw me off.

The truth is, I didn't really think about it like that. I didn't really think about it at all. When Kieran was trying to make me choose, I felt pressured and backed into a corner. He was demanding me to choose him over Greer and I couldn't do that. But when Greer told me so apologetically that she didn't think she could see me anymore if it wasn't 'for real', I hadn't even needed to think about it. I had my answer before the words were even out of her mouth.

Greer is kind and patient, and I know that I can trust her with anything. She hadn't tried to make a move on me when she started feeling like we had a thing; instead she let me find my own way to her, and I know that that is a _huge_ deal for a go-getter like Greer Danville, especially since I had also hurt her really, really bad in the process of finding my way. She genuinely cares about me and she does everything she can to show it. Greer always knows the right thing to say, she makes me feel better, and she makes me laugh and smile. Greer knows what I need without me having to say a word. I feel safe when she holds me, electrified when she kisses me, and _loved _when she looks at me. There is a connection between us that runs deeper than anything I've ever felt with anyone before.

So I look at her looking at me, and I tell her the truth, "I didn't _have_ to choose. To be honest? Kieran didn't stand a chance against you, Greer." She looks a little shocked and even more confused as I say it, so I elect to just bottom-line it for her, "If it comes down to a choice between you or someone else, I choose you, Greer. Every single time. I'd be stupid not to."

She gapes at me, like she wants to say something, but she isn't sure what. I take mercy on her (and myself, to be honest) and finally lean in to kiss her, and I swear that kissing Greer is the best thing in the world. Even though it's kind of dumb and totally cliché, I feel sparks and see fireworks behind my closed eyelids and I feel like I'm melting into a puddle of Brenna-goo. The truth is, this girl has me wrapped around her little finger, and she hasn't even realized it yet, which I'm honestly kind of grateful for.

When Greer pulls out of our kiss, she strokes her fingertips across my cheek and bites her lip again. Our eyes meet and I groan internally as I discover another cliché; when I look into her eyes, I find out that I could lose myself in them. Her lips pull into a smile, just like they always do, and she asks me, "What was that for?"

I realize that she's referring to the epically spectacular kiss we just shared, and I can't help but smirk. "Can't I just kiss my girlfriend?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at her.

It's only when she raises an eyebrow at me in response that I actually realize what I just said. "'Girlfriend'?" she repeats in a question. "I thought you weren't into labels."

A huge smile cracks across my face, imitating the satisfied smirk on hers. "I'm not," I tell her, and I lean in to kiss her again. "But I'm really into you."

The kiss is slow and deep. It makes my toes curl and my head spin. It makes me feel drunk and high, without any use of drugs. Greer's hands slide into my hair and she pulls me closer as I suck her bottom lip into my mouth. She tastes like raspberry lipbalm and the roast chicken we'd had for dinner, and she whimpers just a little when our tongues first meet. I cradle the back of her head with one hand, while I use my other arm to slowly lower her back into my mattress. Nothing about this moment is rushed or forced, it's not even really sexual actually, and I think that's what makes it so amazing. Greer expects nothing from me except for the truth, and I expect nothing from her as my lips tell her the truth without words.

"So," Greer begins when we finally come up for air, "if I'm your girlfriend, does that make you mine?"

I can't help but smile again as I nod my head. "Yours," I agree. As I lean down to kiss Greer again, I whisper to her, "That's a label I could get used to."


End file.
